Gio didn’t know there was an underground spring on this part of the property. But his elephant knew. She had ways of sensing things, he realized, that he could neither see nor hear nor smell. That afternoon Gio hired a backhoe driver to use his heavy equipment to dig ten feet down in the pebbly soil. As he made the area bigger it continued to fill up with water. By the end of the following day Gio sat on the rise of the hill and gazed down at the elephant, who was moving in a very large muddy pond. He knew it would always be his favorite part of his land.
That night in the barn loft, when Gio finally took out his phone, he saw a message from Alp Tekin. The replacement parts for his old truck had arrived. The two men made an appointment for Saturday, and Gio told Alp to tell Sila there was “a big surprise waiting for her when she came out to the property.”
Gio hung up the phone and couldn’t stop smiling.
18.
“I think he got himself a dog,” Sila said as she and her father turned off the main road onto the gravel lane.
“That’s as good a guess as anything.”
“I hope a rescue that needed a good home.”
When they drove around a bend she saw Gio sitting in his old truck, which was parked outside the gates. That was strange. Sila found herself wondering if everything was okay. As soon as they got close, Alp put down the window and Gio called out, “I was thinking it would be best if you worked out here today. Instead of inside on the property. I was lucky the truck started up.”
He didn’t offer more of an explanation, but he added, “And Sila, once we go behind the wall, no wandering around. We all stay together.”
Sila shot her father a look. Exactly what was going on?
Alp asked what she didn’t. “So you got yourself a dog? Is that it?”
Gio shook his head. “Nope. No dog.”
Alp didn’t stop there. “But you’re worried that something’s going to escape. That’s why you want me to fix your truck out here?”
“Not escape, exactly. But yes, get loose, I suppose. I need to keep the gates closed.”
Gio turned his attention to Sila. “Let’s go in and have a look.”
Sila stayed silent. Spending time with Mateo was giving her even more insight into the power of not talking. Her dad didn’t seem very enthusiastic but managed a “Sure thing.”
Once behind the wall, Sila could see that Gio was different. He was excitedly waving his arms in the air, saying, “I’m having a second gate put in here. Thirty feet forward. With higher fencing. That will give me a double entrance. It’s being built right now.”
Sila saw that concrete had been poured and thick steel poles were in place. “You’re going to need that? A second whole entrance?” Alp asked.
Gio answered a firm, “Yup. For certain.”
But he wasn’t revealing more. Sila found herself getting irritated. Whatever they were about to see was making the old guy act nutty. Next he pointed to a new golf cart that was parked next to the farmhouse. “I got the cart yesterday. That’s one thing about money. You can call up and people will deliver! We’re going to all take a ride.”
“So is that the surprise? You got a golf cart?” Sila was interested but had been hoping for the dog.
“Nope. That’s not it.”
“I’ve always wanted to drive a golf cart,” Sila said. But her father replied, “You’re riding, not driving.”
Gio whispered in her direction, “Maybe later you can give it a try.”
Sila climbed on the back and sat in the rear-facing seat. Alp got up front. Gio slid in behind the wheel. They were barely seated before he had turned the key and the cart lurched forward. “Hold on. There’s no seat belts in this thing.”
Sila could see that he was pretty excited about whatever it was he had to show them. They passed tall trees, then an open space with yellowy, three-foot-high grass as they bumped along the dirt road that cut through Gio’s property. This man owned a lot of land, Sila thought, and it was varied: rolling hills, open areas, and clumps of towering pines.
They’d been riding for almost five minutes when they started up an incline. Just before they were at the top, Gio slowed down. He timed it perfectly, because when they rolled to a stop the cart was right at the crest of the hill.
Sila looked down and saw a large, muddy pond.
With an elephant standing in the center!
And not just any elephant, but the magical creature from the donut shop. Sila gasped. Her father’s mouth opened in shock. It was so unexpected.
“IT’S VEDA!” Sila shouted.
“You thought you’d never see her again,” Gio answered.
Sila was dumbstruck as she watched one of the largest land animals in the world raise her trunk, swish her tail, and then stomp her front foot, making a big splash.
Sila was out of her seat in a crouch, her head hitting the cart’s metal cover. She was in awe. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”
She wanted to get out of the cart and go down to the edge of the pond, but Gio wouldn’t allow that. “Elephants are dangerous. And I’m still getting to know this one,” he told her.
As they watched Veda move through the muddy pond, showering herself with blasts of water from her trunk, Gio explained how he’d bought the elephant on his birthday. It was the first time in more than nine months that Sila didn’t think about her family’s problems. Her eyes stayed on the elephant as Veda dug up roots with her feet, ate tree branches, and at one point lowered herself down and rolled in the muddy shore. She was so large and yet so deliberate in her movements. She was powerful, but graceful.
Eventually, Alp said he should probably get to work on the truck, so Gio drove them all back to the farmhouse. After some assurance that Gio would stay up on the hill at a distance, Alp agreed that Sila could return in the cart with Gio to keep watching Veda.
It was there, sitting on the hill, that Sila turned to Gio and asked, “She’s really yours? You’re going to keep her?”
“She’s here to stay. We’re in this together now.”
“I’m so glad she’s not in the circus anymore.”
“Me too. The owner was a strange man.”
“Yes. But Mr. Gio, does anyone really own another living thing? I think you can only own stuff like sleeping bags and microwaves. The other things are just what you’re supposed to take care of.”
“Sila, you are so right. And as it turns out, I’m an elephant person.”
“Me too.”
* * *
It felt as if ten minutes had passed, not over an hour, when her father called Gio on his cell phone to say that the repair work on the truck was done. Sila’s heart sank. When would she see Veda again?
Standing at the gate with her father and Gio, Sila said, “This is the greatest place in the world.” She decided there was no harm in asking a question that had been burning inside her from the moment she first saw the elephant that day. “When can I come back to see her again?”
“Anytime,” Gio said, adding, “And you can bring a friend.”
19.
Sila’s mother had always knitted sweaters and scarfs and hats and even socks for her only daughter. And now that she was gone, she was knitting on overdrive. Every week a box arrived from Turkey with something handmade for Sila or her father.
Sila didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings, but she found everything Oya knitted itchy and uncomfortable. Her father must have felt the same way, because he stashed all of his stuff from her in the hall closet. That seemed wrong, but Sila didn’t say anything.
Her week had started out badly when a boy named Jordan had laughed at her, saying, “Your sweater looks like a lumpy old carpet.” The kid was mean but kind of right. Sila’s mother copied the intricate pattern of Turkish rugs for her designs.
When Oya had still been at home, Sila would walk out
the door many mornings wearing a hand-knitted sweater and in the winter even a handmade scarf. But she would jam the stuff in her backpack once she got near school. She was used to doing things two ways: She spoke two languages, Turkish at home and English when she was out in the world. So there were two ways to go to school: one to make her mom happy, and one to feel comfortable. She could do both.
But now things were different. Sila woke up earlier than normal on Friday and opened the shade, hoping a train would go by. She went to her bureau and removed the most recent of her mother’s scratchy sweaters. She slipped it over her head. It was May. Summer was just around the corner. The sweater was uncomfortable and far too hot to wear in spring weather. But Sila had made her decision.
The back of her neck was sweaty and her hair was wet at the top of her braid. It had been a hard day, and not just because she was making a point to the universe about the value of her mother, as seen in the heavy sweater. The week had dragged on. She’d missed turning in two assignments and didn’t do very well on a history test because she’d read the wrong chapter. Sila was having trouble concentrating. Her mind was not there in the classroom; it was with her mother and an elephant.
And then there were the twenty-minute “connecting” sessions. She and Mateo Lopez had still not said a single word to each other. She felt bad that she didn’t make an attempt to talk to him, but she thought he looked as disinterested in the whole thing as she was. Today would mark over a week they’d been reading books for twenty minutes in that airless room. Sila could hear the other kids whispering when they left class early every afternoon. Before, she would have cared what they said about her. But now it made no difference.
When it was time to go that day, Sila gathered up her things and silently walked out the door. Mateo was right behind her. They got to the library and found the Facilitator waiting. He always left once they were settled. Sila wondered if he was watching with a hidden camera, or maybe listening on a speaker. But today the Facilitator looked at her with real concern.
“Is everything okay, Sila?”
“Uh-huh,” Sila managed.
“You’re flushed. You should take off your sweater. I think you’re overheated.”
Something inside Sila snapped and her eyes filled with tears. She whispered, “My mother made this sweater.”
The Facilitator stepped back as if afraid that she might suddenly start sobbing. But before he could say anything, a low voice spoke out, “The pattern of Sila’s sweater shows the ethnic, cultural, and religious pluralism that comes from one of the oldest points of civilization. Her family is Turkish.”
Sila turned to look at Mateo. He continued, “She has her reasons for wanting to wear the sweater.”
The Facilitator stared at the boy. “Yes. Thank you, Mateo.”
Sila adjusted her backpack. “Come on, Mateo. Let’s go home.”
Once they were off the school property walking home under the leafy walnut trees, Sila said, “Thank you.”
Mateo responded with, “For what?”
“For the sweater stuff.”
“If you wanted to take off your sweater, you’d have taken off your sweater.”
Sila stopped walking.
Mateo kept going.
Sila put her backpack on the sidewalk and pulled the heavy sweater over her head, leaving her in a cotton T-shirt. She stuffed the sweater into her backpack and ran to catch up with Mateo.
“Wow. That’s so much better. It was like being rolled up in a carpet all day.”
The boy didn’t say anything. Sila added, “You’re a good person, Mateo.”
Again, he didn’t answer. He kept moving, his stride long and deliberate. Sila noticed he was careful to step in the center of each concrete sidewalk square. They walked for another eight blocks in silence. But it wasn’t actual silence.
Cars whizzed by.
A plane could be heard overhead.
There were squirrels making their high-pitched chirps.
Every sound seemed amplified as Sila began to think about Mateo’s world. Was he listening to those sounds or was he hearing just his own thoughts?
He seemed both more focused and more distracted than anyone she’d ever spent time with.
Two blocks before the corner of Lincoln and Cleary, Mateo stopped. They had reached his house but he wasn’t heading toward the door. Sila was unsure what to say. Maybe nothing was best. Then Mateo said to her, “Gravity gives weight to objects. The moon’s gravity is what causes Earth to have tides. Gravity is why the planets circle the sun. The spheres are pulled in and reap the benefits of the warmth.”
Sila nodded but she was unsure why he had picked this moment to bring this up. Mateo squinted up at the sun and then looked at his brick house. A large dog appeared suddenly in the window and began barking with excitement. Mateo was focused on that now. He headed straight for the front door.
Sila called out, “See you on Monday, Mateo.”
He didn’t answer.
She watched as he took a key from his pants pocket and let himself into the house. Once Mateo was inside, the frantic barking stopped.
Sila stayed on the sidewalk waiting to see if the boy or the dog would pass by the window. But that didn’t happen.
Did Mateo think people looked right through him?
She knew she didn’t.
At least not anymore.
20.
It had been a busy week for Gio. He’d had a metal enclosure built inside the barn. He’d watched a video posted by the San Diego Zoo, which was one of the best in the world, and he’d copied their design, hiring the welders he’d worked with at Chinook Modular Housing. He paid them double their rate to work after their regular shifts ended.
For most of the day Veda was now free to roam wherever she wanted on his acreage. Gio figured that it was good for her to explore. She liked to spend time down at the pond, but so far she always came back up to the barn at sunset. After so many years living in a truck, she seemed happy to go inside every night and fall asleep standing in fresh hay in the new metal enclosure.
On Wednesday night Sila ate her scrambled eggs and toast while Alp read his book. It was their regular routine until Sila said, “Dad, do you think we could go see Mr. Gio this weekend?”
“I could call and find out.”
“Thanks.”
“Just as long as I don’t have to work.”
“Right,” she said. “And one other thing . . .”
“Yes, Sila?”
“Mr. Gio said I could bring a friend.”
Alp was really paying attention now. Sila’s dad had spent a lot of time encouraging his daughter to see her friends but had gotten nowhere, and after months of it, he’d finally given up. He looked truly excited as he said, “Really? Do you want to do that? Bring Porter? Or Daisy? Or Nala?”
“No.”
“So a new friend?”
“There’s a person from school I want to bring—he’s not really a friend.”
Alp’s voice was no longer quite as bouncy: “A boy?”
“Yeah. He’s in my grade.”
“You’ve known him a long time?”
Sila nodded. “But he doesn’t really talk. So it’s hard to know him.”
Her father’s face said he didn’t understand.
“I mean he talks to me. But barely. And at school he doesn’t speak to anyone. He used to. Back when we were younger. He used to talk all the time and now I’m thinking maybe they told him to be quiet.”
Alp was silent.
“I haven’t asked him if he wants to go. He doesn’t know anything about it. But I think he’d like Veda.”
“Does this boy have a name?”
“Mateo Lopez. When you call Mr. Gio you should find out what we can bring. You never visit someone empty-handed.”
This was somethin
g her mother always said.
Minutes later, Alp made the call.
Gio said to come out on Saturday and to bring a watermelon.
Sila wasn’t sure why she wanted Mateo to go with her. When they were together for twenty minutes in the library they still didn’t speak. They did walk home together now, always in silence, until yesterday when he said goodbye before heading to his front door. That felt like a big deal to Sila. She called out “Goodbye” in return, and even though he didn’t turn around or acknowledge her, she knew he’d heard.
Sila believed she hadn’t said goodbye to her mother in the right way when she left. They both thought they’d be seeing each other very soon. She wished she could do it all over again. Goodbyes were more important than they appeared to be.
Since her father had said it was okay, Sila’s plan to invite Mateo out to Gio’s had been taking shape. She would wait until they were walking home, and then explain about the lottery winner and his big piece of property behind a stone wall.
But the next afternoon, as soon as the Facilitator left and she’d taken her seat in the library room, she blurted it out. “Mateo, I’m going to see an elephant this weekend. Do you want to come with me?”
Mateo looked up from his book.
His lips stayed in their permanent school position, which meant sealed.
He stared at her.
He blinked a few times, and when he finally spoke he said only, “I’ll ask my mom.”
That was it.
He had no follow-up questions. He didn’t ask where the elephant was or why they would be going to see it. There was no mention of time or how they would get there. Just “I’ll ask my mom.”
The Elephant in the Room Page 7
